Streets of Gold
by Rhinos.Vs.Unicorns
Summary: The sparkling city of Hollywood was famous and notorious for what it could do, what it could build, and what it could destroy. The pressure, the young stars, the dangers- the whole place was one big cliche after another. Yet, somehow, the city continued to change people, to break people, and, occasionally, to bring people together. Kames. Very angst-heavy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi. For those of you who have been reading my stuff for awhile, sorry that I haven't been on. Anyways, this is my new Kames angst fic. So yeah. That's that**_._

**To anyone who was reading my old demon James/ hunter Kendall story and wondering where the fuck it went, my apologies, really. It got taken down from this site because apparently that story was just too badass. And that really sucks, too, because my old laptop crashed and I lost all the documents. That's also the big WHY for me not being on here. Plus, before it was summer, school was like, a pretty big deal, and it will be again once the school year starts. So sorry in advance if I'm a slow updater.**

**Last but not least, the title of this story is from a song by 3OH!3. At the beginning of each chapter, I'm gonna put a verse from that song because I feel like it fits with the story. As you may have guessed, the song title is Streets of Gold. It's kind of like, my "inspiration" for this, as lame as that may sound. But yeah, that's what the song verse at the beginning of the chapter is.**

* * *

_You could say "ahh"_

_and I could bite my tongue_

_'Cuz it would take all week_

_To tell you where I'm from_

* * *

He was running. He didn't know where he was going, or what would happen next, but he was running. Sprinting. He was being chased. Chased at high speed, down a long, dark tunnel into a deep, unknown abyss. He couldn't feel any incline; whether he was running uphill, downhill, or flat, he didn't know. He opened his mouth, exuding all the energy he could, trying to scream "help" or "run" or even just make any sound, loud and shrill with terror, but no sound came from his mouth.

One time, he even tried to scream a name. _Kendall._

He kept running, choking on the air that would not let him scream. He had know idea how long or how far he'd run, but he did know that he would never, ever, stop. He'd be running, screaming, crying for help, forever. It would never end.

James sat bolt-upright in bed, panting, beads of sweat running from his brow. His blankets, sheets, and pillows all lay on the ground, and he was gripping the exposed fitted sheet that covered his mattress.

The dream always started the same way.

He was walking down a hallway, a tunnel, long and pitch black. There was a bright light at the end, and it slowly got bigger as he got closer. The light gave off a warm energy. It was comforting, safe. James knew that when he got to the light, he'd be okay. It varied in shape, size and color; sometimes it was ambiguous, sometimes shaped like a man, sometimes huge and engulfing, sometimes tiny and delicate. He'd seen it in purple, green, pink, and white. But it was constantly a good, calm, safe presence. Every time, James would walk right up to it.

He would get _so_ close to it, close enough to touch it. He stood there, staring in awe and wonder, his shiny hazel eyes glowing in the reflection of the entity.

The shape would reach out to touch him, and James welcomed it, embraced it. He waited for the warmth and comfort and joy to wash over him like a wave, and his heart would beat faster and faster the closer the shape got.

It got so close, the glowing, soft edges just barely about to brush his skin. Only a hair's breath away.

Suddenly, a switch flipped. Every time, right before it touched him, a terrified chill, a panic-stricken shiver, would run through his body. He would turn on his heel, the sudden horror hitting him hard. He'd start to run, sprint away, and the entity would chase him.

As he ran, it changed.

It morphed in shape, grew in size. It turned red and started pulsating, giving off waves of fear and mistrust and a kind of desire that just seemed strange and evil. He ran from it, and it pursued him, never slowing for even a moment. Sometimes, the ground on which he ran would fall away under his feet, every step like jumping off of a cliff. Sometimes, his teeth fell out. He could never scream, and he didn't always try. The air was always too thick and suffocating so he couldn't breathe right or make any sound of distress. Once, the dark, endless sides of the hall were full of terrifying, cartoon faces of people. The flesh had melted off of their bones and their eyes were sunken deep into their heads, but they kept smiling. They laughed, jeered at James and his inability to escape.

"Dude, are you okay?"

Kendall always asked the same question. From across the room, his face was lowly lit by the red light of his alarm clock. His green eyes, soft and concerned, were a safe haven. They were real life. They were James's job, his friends, his family, and Minnesota. In them, James could see himself, Kendall, and Carlos, out on the ice, tossing snowballs at each other and laughing without a care in the world.

"Yeah," James would pant out, gulping back tears and fear and insecurity as he stared at Kendall. Long after Kendall closed his eyes, James kept the image of the yellow-green shimmer, given a rusty-colored tinge by the clock's light in the front of his mind. It kept him safe.

Kendall kept him safe.

* * *

Once upon a time, Kendall had loved to party.

He'd loved to get drunk, to dance, to feel strangers' sweat rub against his skin and the thump of the bass shake his bones. Kendall had loved to hook up with random girls, to do beer bongs and kegs, to smoke weed with people he had just met and would never know.

As Kendall sat, his face resting on one hand, he wondered if that love of partying would ever return.

He watched from a distance, sipping lightly on his one and only beer of the night, as James put moves on a girl across the bar. Kendall rolled his eyes as he watched his friend move closer, stalking his prey by pushing her hair out of her face or whispering dirty things into her ear. He frowned as he saw the pretty boy's hand snake around the girl's waist, his nose press to her forehead, his lips part to welcome hers. Kendall didn't have to watch, but he did anyways. He didn't enjoy it; he didn't get anything from it, but he watched.

Kendall found himself longing for the days when he could go out and party. He used to go to a party with all of his platinum record-selling boy band, and the ever-dependable Logan was their designated driver. Logan babysat for the other three. He kept Carlos on a short leash, knowing he would get into ridiculous amounts of trouble otherwise, but James and Kendall he allowed to get as crazy as they wanted, provided they didn't get themselves arrested. Logan just made sure they got home safe.

At nineteen, the boys had been living on their own for a year and no longer had to worry about pesky things like curfews. This allowed James and Kendall to get wilder and wilder, and James especially did not always go home with the rest of the band as a night out came to a close. The end of the party was only the beginning of the night when James had hooked himself a girl.

After tiring of watching James and Kendall go crazy while he wasn't allowed to, Carlos eventually stopped going out to parties with the other boys. Shortly after, James and Kendall discovered that Logan was mostly going with them to keep an eye on Carlos. He just didn't have the same protectiveness over the more grown-up James and Kendall, so Logan politely informed them that he was done sitting through keggers and club scenes and red carpet after -parties just to make sure the two of them stayed out of trouble. They should take care of themselves.

At first, both boys thought it was great. But after a couple of shady car rides from strangers, a bar fight, and (worst of all) being unable to find James at a big party during one drunken stupor, Kendall realized that they did need someone sober with them after all. And James was much too far gone into the partying lifestyle to give it up.

So, Kendall sat on his bar stool, holding onto his lukewarm beer, watching James hook up with some random bimbo. To Kendall, they were all the same.

James, on the other hand, thought she was exquisite.

James's inebriated brain found the girl before him to be the most breathtakingly beautiful thing in the world. She had huge, gorgeous blue eyes, and her voice drawled in a sexy-scratchy way when she said his name. Her lips were pink and soft and shiny, her little purple top had the most amazing and intricate ruffles, and her fiery red hair fell in big curls. She was glowing and shimmering in James's eyes, and the light hit her just right, highlighting her skin in all the right places.

Kendall thought she looked like the human embodiment of gonnorhea.

The girl with James had big bug eyes with huge bags under them. Her voice was low and gravelly, probably from years of heavy smoking. She had so much lip gloss on her lips looked sticky, and her tube top was much too small, squeezing her boobs so they overflowed and pratically fell out of the top. Her hair was cracked and dry and, judging by the brown roots and the way the color didn't match her skin tone, poorly dyed. The girl had blotchy, tired-out skin that looked like it had been mistreated by its ower, causing it to age too fast. She was probably a crackbaby who had hitched a ride with some rednecks and had them take her to Hollywood.

Kendall shook his head, accepting that he would never understand the workings of the mind of a drunk James.

* * *

The girl writhed, twisted, and squirmed, arching her back up towards James, bucking her hips into him. Her fingers tangled through his hair as he pushed and pulled himself in and out of her again and again.

_'If only daddy could see me now,' _ James thought to himself, hearing his latest endeavor screaming his name somewhere in the back of his mind.

* * *

_James Diamond's father, called "William" by his associates, "Bill" by his friends, and "Sir" by his children, had a presence like a bull. He commanded respect, fear, and obedience in everyone he met, and, with a hand the size of his oldest son's head, he could ensure that everyone would listen to him._

_"What the _fuck _do you think you were doing?" Mr. Diamond screamed, his face red. A deep furrow of disapproval and anger ran across his forehead, and his eyes blazed with hatred._

_"N-n-nothing, Sir," James stuttered out in reply. At six-foot-four, James's father only stood two inches taller than his son, but he had a bigger build and a personality that made James feel like a tiny, helpless child._

_James loathed the man. He hated staying weekends at his dad's house, all four-thousand sparkling, pristine square feet of it. James hated watching his father with his tiny, blonde trophy wife. He hated seeing the housekeeping staff come sweeping through the place without a single word of acknowledgement from the man whose house they were cleaning._

_"When I see behavior like that," Mr. Diamond bellowed on, "I think to myself that maybe, I've raised a queer! Now, James, I _know _I did not raise a queer. My boy will not be behaving like that, do you understand? What would my colleagues say? We live in Minnesota, not San Francisco!"_

_"Sir, it was just-"_

_"No, boy, I am _not _done with you yet! What do you think ran through my mind when I walked into my first son's room and saw him wrapped around another man? I've never liked that Kendall, and this just goes to show why. He's turning my son into a fucking queer!"_

_"DAD!," James screamed, finally getting the attention of the older man, "Just shut up for a second, would you? We weren't doing anything, I swear! It gets cold here, because, I don't know, we live in the middle of _nowhere, _Minnesota, and you refuse to turn on the heat even in the middle of the winter! And even if something _was _going on, you of all people would be the last who should be allowed to tell me it's wrong. You're married to a girl who _I _could date, for God's sakes. Can she even buy her own drinks? I mean-"_

_James's long, ranting speech was cut short. The hand that was as big as his entire face was flying towards him, palm first, fingers outstretched. It made contact with James's cheek with a force that knocked the boy sideways, making his skin tingle and sting and his eyes water and get hot._

_Furious, James turned on his heel and stalked off to his room. He fought back burning, treacherous tears and kept his jaw clenched as he pushed his bedroom door open a little bit, then slammed it closed behind him. Through the low light, he saw two light green eyes, widened in awe and disbelief and dread. James said nothing, just walked quickly over to the bed and crawled under the covers._

_He didn't have to ask permission to put his head on Kendall's chest. Kendall, in turn, said nothing when he felt hot tears seep through his thin cotton shirt._

_James knew he wouldn't have to explain what had happened to Kendall. That was the problem with high, rounded ceilings, whether they were adorned with glittering chandeliers and complimented with marble surfaces or not._

_Sound carried._

* * *

"Hey," Logan chirped, waving a single hand to greet Kendall as he walked through the door way. Carlos also waved, but he didn't say anything because his mouth was full of... no one was really sure. Food. Maybe.

"Hi," Kendall sighed, tossing his keys onto a nearby table. His shoulders slouched down, defeated, and his head hung a little. Exasperated, he pulled a chair away from their dining table and sat down, elbows on the bare, smooth wood. The boys had this huge, glossy mahogany dining table without a single thing on it. Nothing but Kendall's keys. It felt strange for Kendall to even be sitting there.

"No James?" Logan asked tentatively. He could sense Kendall's distress easily, as anybody would, especially someone who had been Kendall's best friend for as long as Logan had. Carlos, next to him on their couch, sat, oblivious, absorbed in his video game and his mystery snack.

Kendall shook his head no, his cheeks puffed out and his eyebrows raised. He even laughed a little, trying desperately to convince himself that there was humor in James's situation.

"He's in some girl's bed somewhere," Kendall said with an offhand shrug, showing Logan how little he cared. How little it bothered him. How it didn't matter at all.

"Figures," Logan agreed.

"I just wish someone would _talk _to him," Kendall muttered, staring at his hands as they lay in front of him on the table. He looked up at Logan, his green eyes wide and begging for a confirmation.

"Someone should," Logan replied, "like, I don't know, _his best friend?"_

Kendall slowly put his head in his hands, looking though his fingers at Logan and then back away with tired eyes.

"He won't listen to me," Kendall told him, "He needs to be told by someone of... authority."

"What, like _Gustavo_?" Logan suggested, chuckling a little. Kendall let out a small, half-hearted laugh in agreement, but it was leaden with insincerity, and very obviously so.

Gustavo would _never _tell James to stop partying. The more trouble James got himself into, the better. James went to an interview drunk; the video got a million hits on YouTube. James got arrested for trying to buy alcohol with a fake I.D.; they sold 15,000 more albums. Paparazzi snapped a picture of James putting his tongue down a stripper's mouth; he wound up on the cover of _People_ magazine. Every time a story went around about "James Diamond, startilingly attractive singing sensation of the popular boy band Big Time Rush," a few more people decided to check out the once-small-town kids, no longer hockey players from Minnesota.

The more buzz, the better.

Gustavo finally had his bad boy, and he was _not _about to let go of that just because Kendall was "concerned." He'd had that conversation multiple times before with both Kendall and Logan, and it always came to the same conclusion: Gustavo would do anything to inch his now-favorite a little bit closer to landing a star on the legendary Hollywood Boulevard. Therefore, Kendall and Logan should leave him alone. _Let James be James._

The problem was, Kendall knew James _wasn't _being James. He was being someone else, a stranger, and Kendall found that to be absolutely terrifying.

Logan could tell that Kendall was still upset, but he let the subject of James's behavior drop. If Logan were a little more awake, or feeling a little bit more charitable, he would have asked Kendall to talk about it. Asked him _why _James crawling into bed with every random girl bothered Kendall so much. Or why Kendall was always so stressed following looking-after James for the night, whether the other boy came home with him or not. Or, if it was hurting him so much, why Kendall didn't just tell James to take care of himself and stop going out with the trainwreck that was James Diamond.

As if Logan didn't already know the answer.

* * *

Somewhere in Hollywood, splayed out between the sheets of some girl's bed, half an arm wrapped around his already-forgotten partner, James Diamond was getting the best kind of sleep.

It was black. It was dark. There was nothing, just real, true, rest.

No dreams. No chase.

There was one way for him to get that kind of sleep, and it was this: a total blackout.

So, James drank until the scary glowing thing couldn't chase him any more, and then he slept.

In peace.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you guys like it so far. A review would be much appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, follows, etc. Here's chapter 2!**_  
_

* * *

_I know what you're about_

_Why don't you close your mouth_

_And step right over here_

_So we can dance this out_

* * *

It was seven thirty in the morning. Kendall awoke naturally, out of routine, without the help of the alarm clock that would go off a half an hour later. He knew that within a few minutes, James would be wanting to come home.

Shortly thereafter, Kendall's phone vibrated.

_James: Pleeeeeaaaase come pick me up. this ones real crazy. ill send u the address in a sec (7:34 am)_

Right on schedule. Kendall was already buckling his seatbelt and adjusting his mirrors by the time James had let him know where he'd be going.

* * *

Kendall crawled down a back road somewhere deep in the woodwork of Hollywood. He was barely letting the car's tires roll forward, glancing from house to house in search of any sign of James. No every house on the block had an obvious number listed, so Kendall kept looking until he spotted a red brick apartment building. On the side of it he saw the tall and lean figure of a man climbing swiiftly down the fire escape in what was obviously last night's outfit.

Looking on with slight amusement, Kendall noticed James stumbling towards the car, yawning and running a hand through his hair. Although he appeared trashed and exhausted, James was really hustling; his tired walk was actually pretty quick.

James had hardly so much as closed the car door when he barked- or growled- the first order: "Drive."

"Quick getaway?" Kendall observed, arching one of his thick eyebrows at his friend, already pulling away from the house.

"Definitely," James answered, puffing out his cheeks as he spoke, "Man, that is one crazy bitch, I'll tell ya." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "She didn't do much of anything special in bed, either, she just kind of... lay there. I mean, yeah, she was _loud, _but she didn't _do _anything, like-"

"Yeah, James," Kendall took a hand off of the stering wheel so he could put it up in front of the other boy, "I got it. You can spare me the details."

"Okay," James said with a chuckle, "I'm just saying, a girl like that, well, she looked all wild, so I was expecting her to _be _wild, but then she just... wasn't."

"Dude," Kendall said, "She didn't look _wild. _She looked like _trailer trash. _You just had beer goggles on too thick to tell the difference."

"I don't _drink _beer," James corerected, rolling his eyes, "You should have that straight by now, Kendall."

"I know, I know," Kendall shook his head, "Sorry, you had on _vodka _goggles."

"Good. If you're gonna make an accusation, at least make it right," James grumbled jokingly, folding his arms tightly across his broad chest.

James was not kidding about his aversion to beer. He'd had that policy for awhile, and he stood by it pretty well. His theory was that if you didn't drink beer, you wouldn't gain beer _weight. _In order to simultaneously stay fit and get wasted quickly, James only drank shots because they had a high alcohol content and very few calories.

Kendall had to admit that whatever James was doing to stay in good shape, it was working. James had maintained the same "washboard abs" he'd had at sixteen, and Kendall couldn't help but look at them from time to time. It wasn't _his _fault; when James walked into their shared bedroom, dripping wet, with a single white towel wrapped around his waist, he knew he would be the focus of Kendall's eyes. Where Kendall's eyes went when James _dropped _the towel, that was a whole other story.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, I was drunk. That's not the point of my story. The point is, this chick is insane. I was asleep, right? It was like four in the morning. We were done fucking. Anyways, there was a crash or a bump or something outside, and she goes, 'Babe, would you go check that out?' And so-"

"Dude, I hate to break it to you, but calling someone babe after having sex with them does _not _make you crazy." He shifted to look at James, batting his eyelashes, "_Babe."_

James snorted in reply, giving Kendall a gentle shove with the ball of his hand.

"Yo, don't distract the driver!" Kendall scolded sarcastically, purposely swerving the car for a split second. They were on a little back road, and at the moment, there were no other cars in sight.

"Anyways," James continued, rolling his eyes and shrugging his friend off, "that's not my point. Going to check out the scary bump in the night is _not _a one night stand's job. That is a _boyfriend's _job, Kendall, and I am _nobody's _boyfriend."

"I don't know man," Kendall told him, "for awhile there, you wanted to be Lucy's boyfriend. But you couldn't. Because Lucy wanted someone else to be her boyfriend, is that right?"

"Dude-"

"Now, who would that have been, James Diamond, Girl Expert? Hmm?" Kendall leaned towards James, barely keeping his eyes on the road and craning his neck so his jaw stuck out at a sharp angle, "Who did Lucy want over you?"

"You," James mumbled, crossing his arms. He gave Kendall a glare, his brow furrowed, his nose bunched up, and his lips pursed into a pout.

"Hey, hey," Kendall teased, reaching over to ruffle James's already-messed-up hair, "Don't give me that first-grader-stole-my-lollipop look. Just 'cause I got to be Lucy's boyfriend over you doesn't mean you have to get all bitchy on me."

"Wait," James said, putting one finger up in the air, close to Kendall's face even though he was driving, "I never wanted to be her stupid _boyfriend. _I just wanted to fuck her. There's a big difference. You could've had her when I was done."

"Ew," Kendall said, "I don't want your leftovers. Besides, the point is that _I _got to fuck her, not you, for once. And you're the only one I told all those details to, so really, you should be grateful."

"That's true. And I do get to hold that over Carlos, who still wants to know, by the way."

"Hey!" Kendall made a slightly offended face, "I told you not to tell Carlos I told you!"

"Kendall," James cocked his head towards the other boy, an adoring but fake-apologetic smirk on his face, "when you give me a chance for bragging rights, don't you think I'm gonna take them?"

"Whatever," Kendall swatted aimlessly at James, "I'm still the one who got laid."

"Speaking of getting laid," James steered the conversation back to where he wanted it, "So last night after I, being the chivalrous gentleman I am, went and stood in the hallway for a minute so this chick would think I was actually checking out the sound-"

"How kind of you."

"I went back into her room and told her everything was fine. And she goes, 'Aww, thanks Honey.'"

Kendall's eyebrows shot up. "Honey?"

"Honey."

"Ooof."

"Yeah," James said, nodding slowly. "James Diamond is _not _a 'Honey.' Not a Sweetie, not a Darling, not a Pooki-Bear. No. None of that shit. James Diamond is the sexy rock star who bought the girl drinks and pretended to listen to her stories. That's it."

"But Pooki-Bear," Kendall cocked his head to the side, making his eyes widen and sticking out his lower lip, "I thought what we had was special."

"You're an idiot," James said with a laugh, his dazzling million-dollar smile shining like it always did in response to Kendall's god-awful puppy dog face.

They both laughed, taking a minute to appreciate the morning sunshine and each other's company. Kendall's car rides with James didn't always go like this. Often times, James would be too tired and hungover, or Kendall would be too upset with him, and they would ride in a stiff silence. Sometimes, James slept. Sometimes, they argued about James's lifestyle, holding a heated debate that went back and forth until they got off topic and they weren't even yelling about the same thing anymore. But Kendall's favorite car rides were the ones where they were able to just joke around like they did when they were fifteen, back in Minnesota in the slick ice and the glistening snow and sharp, clear, brisk air. It was like it had been before everything changed.

Suddenly, Kendall's mind was drawn back to reality. To his left, he saw a large, bright red pick-up truck coming in the other direction. Kendall jumped a little, gasping quietly as the truck came closer.

Knowing he was allowed, James placed a gentle hand of Kendall's thigh. He rubbed the tough fabric of Kendall's jeans gently with his thumb as the truck drove past the two.

"Just keep driving," James whispered calmly, "You're fine, you're okay."

Kendall bit his lip and nodded, glad to have James's comforting hand resting on his leg.

* * *

_Kendall Knight's father was a good man._

_He was fair, honest, and kind. Kendall's father was not one who played favorites; he loved all of his family members equally. He'd once had dirty blonde hair like Kendall, but it turned into a dark gray . He had the same big brown eyes as Katie, and when he smiled, they scrunched up and little crow's feet formed around the corners._

_Kendall's father was also a quirky man. He had all sorts of strange rules by which he lived very strictly, though they were the least strict kind of rules possible._

_One of Kendall's personal favorites was the rule about peanuts._

_"Never eat a peanut that doesn't come in its shell," Kendall's father would tell him, "If it ain't in the shell, you don't know what they put on that peanut. There could be all sorts of chemicals and flavoring stuff, anything to make it taste better or last longer. But don't eat those peanuts. Only eat the kind that come in the shell. If a peanut is in its shell, you know they didn't put any bad stuff on on it. It has an all-natural casing, all sealed up by Mother Nature herself. No chemicals on that peanut, the shell will make sure of it. You know that peanut's history."_

_Other lessons by Mr. Knight were more appicable to real life, such as his rule about how to treat others. He didn't follow the Golden Rule, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," he had a whole other one, a better one._

_"Always treat people a little different than they think you're gonna treat them," the man told Kendall, "Maybe a little better, maybe a little worse. It depends. If they think you're gonna be mean, welll, that's easy: be nicer. But if they think you're gonna be really nice, well, you should still be nice, but you can throw in a snyde remark or two. It'll keep 'em on their toes. That way, they'll remember not to take you for granted, 'cuz you're never gonna be quite what they expect."_

_The one rule that would never be forgotten, the one that would outlive Mr. Knight, was his seat belt rule._

_"Now you, Kendall, you have to wear a seat belt. Always. No exceptions. Katie too, and even your momma. I can't even imagine what I'd do if one of you got hurt, so you gotta wear it. But me, I don't have to. I grew up my whole life without a seat belt, and I like it better that way. We used to pack eight people into a five-seater car and buy one ticket to the drive in, no seatbelts. So I don't wear one."_

_Kendall never worried about his father not wearing a seat belt. His dad was invincible. Nothing could ever stop him, and nothing ever would._

_It was three months before everything changed. Three moths before Gustavo, before Hollywood, before Big Time Rush._

_Kendall was sitting in the passenger seat of his dad's Camry. The two of them were singing along to Mr. Knight's Grateful Dead CD, drumming on the steering wheel and the dashboard and belting out the words for everyone to hear. They came to an intersection where they had the right of way. Traffic coming from the other road had a stop sign._

_Kendall barely saw the truck before it was just feet away._

_It was bright red, blazing, fiery red, and it hit from the driver's side. Kendall's father, no seat belt, went flying, forward, backward, left, right. Kendall remembered learning in Driver's Ed how being tossed like that can jumble your organs and kill you even if the impact doesn't._

_Kendall was fine. He had his seat belt on. He saw everything clearly. He saw the truck, shiny and red. He saw the shattered window and mirror. He saw his father's head resting, limp, on the steering wheel. He saw blood all around the car. More red._

_Hands shaking, as Kendall dialed 911, he already knew it was far too late._

* * *

"Hellooo, buddy, anyone home?"

Kendall shook his head, abruptly pulling his brain back to reality, back to a crowded club, a thumping bass, a lonely bar stool. An Italian-looking bar tender wearing a tight black t-shirt stood across from him, waving a hand in Kendall's face.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Kendall muttered, half to the bar tender and half to himself, "I was just, you know... thinking."

Kendall _had _been thinking. He'd been thinking about red pick-up trucks and his dad and James climbing down that skinny fire escape when he's barely been able to get himself into the car.

"You Kendall?" the guy asked, "I was told to look for a _Kendall, _and I saw you come in with that guy James, so I figured-"

"James?" Kendall's eyebrows shot up at the mention of his friend's name. Noticing the bar tender's surprise, (and slight amusement), Kendall relaxed a little, continuing, "Yeah, I'm Kendall, what do you need?"

"I need you to come get your buddy," the guy pointed behind him with one thumb, "He's passed out in the back."

"Oh, James," Kendall sighed, sliding off of his bar stool. He looked up at the bar tender, glancing around in hopes that the man would tell him where exactly to go.

"Here, I'll take you to him," the bar tender said, "Name's Carl, by the way."

"Okay, thanks Carl," Kendall replied. He ducked quickly between people as he followed Carl's broad shoulders and bald head through the crowded club scene, brushing off the occassional girl who would grab his arm or scream "Kendall! From Big Time Rush!"

Carl lead Kendall to a back room separate from the main part of the club and, with one sweeping gesture, presented Kendall with James, who was, as promised, passed out on the couch. There were girls with low-cut tank tops and leather shorts and badly dyed hair scattered around, playing with James's fingers or hair or even just sitting next to him, soaking up his unconcious presence.

"Um," Kendall began, glancing back at Carl as the man left to return to his job. He cleared his throat, hoping to catch the girls' attention. It was to no avail, and Kendall stood for a second, his cheeks getting flushed a little red and shifting from foot to foot. He was usually so polite to fans, but Kendall needed to get to James, and he couldn't when these random girls had their paws all over his best friend.

"Do you guys mind?" Kendall asked, louder this time. Five to seven drunken groupie heads snapped up to look at him. Some had eyes narrowed into angry slits, others were widened with delight.

"Oh my God!" one girl squealed, leaping up from the sleeping James and running over to latch onto Kendall's arm, "Kendall Knight! You're here!"

"This is _so _cool," another gushed. A few of the girls ran over to join Kendall, one or two left, and three more still sat with James.

"Yeah, okay, you too," Kendall replied half-heartedly, twisting his arms and squirming with his whole body to escape the grip of the girls. He could feel their eyes on them as he rushed over to the couch where James was lying, shooing the girls who surrounded his friend in the process.

James Diamond was lying face down on a squishy red leather sofa. Although he was wasted, his face looked angelic and perfect as it always did when he slept. That was the thing: even if James hadn't been in a semi-comatose state, Kendall would not have wanted to wake him. When James slept, he looked beautiful, flawless, and calm. It was part of the reason why Kendall didn't do more about James's drinking; he hated watching his best friend thrash about and wake up in the middle of the night, sweating bullets and breathing hard from escaping his latest nightmare.

Gingerly, Kendall rolled James over onto his back so Kendall would be able to slide one arm under James's knees and one under the arch of his back. Then, slowly, he lifted James off of the couch, hearing muffled "oohs" and "ahhs" from the swooning girls who hung around. They followed him as he carried James to the back door, but Kendall turned around and fixed them with his coldest, meanest glare, and the girls quickly and quietly peeled off.

Once out in the warm Los Angeles night air, Kendall took his time walking to his car. He watched James's face as they went in and out of the soft yellow glow of the street lights, the light flooding over James for a few steps until they went back into the shadows.

Kendall propped his friend up in the passenger seat of his car, glad to rid himself of the weight but slightly disappointed to be putting James down so soon. Still watching James sleep, he carefully took the seat belt and drew it over James's lap and shoulder, making sure his friend was buckled, safe.

* * *

Kendall kicked the door to the apartment four times. It was the more obnoxious version of knocking.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he heard a grumble from inside.

The door swung open, Logan behind it. He wore a thin white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were more than half closed.

"It is three in the morning," Logan groaned, "Don't you have your key?"

"I can't exactly get to it..." Kendall said, chuckling a little as he walked in past Logan.

Logan opened his eyes to see what Kendall was referring to, and he cocked an eyebrow and smirked when he noticed Kendall's armload.

"I'll go open your bedroom door so you can go put him down and I can go back to sleep."

"Thanks," Kendall replied, following Logan down the hallway and then through the door into his and James's room. They had enough money to each have their own room, each have their own apartment,. or even house, really, but the boys had become so accustomed to sharing that they did it anyways, Logan and Carlos in one room, James and Kendall in the other. There was a spare room with a spare bed which James often used when he brought home new "friends" he'd met at a club or party.

Hearing the door click shut and knowing that Logan must have left, Kendall started walking over to James's bed.

"Kendall?"

"Hey, buddy," Kendall whispered through the darkness, "We're home. I'm just gonna put you in bed and then we can both change and go to sleep."

James didn't say anything; he just rubbed his eye with the back of one hand and hooked the other hand around Kendall's neck. Confused, but assuming James was just hanging on, Kendall put James down onto his bed. When he did so, however, Kendall was surprised when James wrapped the other arm around Kendall's neck and pulled him down onto the bed. He landed right on top of James.

"Oh, uh... Sorry," Kendall mumbled, breathing in small gasps. His face was inches from James's and he could feel his cheeks flushing hot. "I'll just get up and-"

"Shh," James smushed a sloppy finger over Kendall's lips, "You don't have to talk now, okay Kendall?" He put a hand on the top of Kendall's back and ran it slowly down to the bottom. The other hand slid up and around to the back of Kendall's head, tangling James's fingers into Kendall's messy blonde hair.

Kendall started to say something, anything, but he felt James's finger press harder against his lips. Then, James moved his finger away, and he craned his neck gently so that his lips could reach Kendall's. Kendall had no time to think, to speak, to protest, because all of a sudden, James's lips were on his.

James's lips were good. They were persistent, fast, urgent. They were hot, wet, and sloppy.

_Too _sloppy, Kendall realized, because normally, James had more finesse than that.

"James," Kendall panted, pulling out of the kiss for a moment, still painfully aware of James's hands holding onto his body, "you don't know what you're doing."

"Yes I do," James murmured in reply, biting Kendall's lower lip, "I'm kissing you. I want to kiss you." He let go of Kendall's lip and pressed his own lips back against the other boy's, pushing his tongue into Kendall's mouth.

Kendall couldn't help it; James seemed to want to, and the kisses felt _so good. _On his best behavior, Kendall would have stopped. He would have gotten out of James's bed, gone to sleep on his own, and thoroughly apologized the next day.

This was not a night for good behavior.

Kendall wrapped his fingers around the hem of James's shirt, balling it up in his fists. He pushed the shirt up, running a hand over James's hard, toned abs. While Kendall busied himself kissing down James's stomach, James pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Once it was gone, Kendall kissed, slowly, painstakingly slowly, up James's abs, his chest, his neck, until he reached his lips. Soft and tender, he kissed James, rolling his hips against James's, feeling the tight friction of James's jeans as they rubbed against his own. He heard two low thuds, indicating that James had kicked his loosely-tied shoes off, and Kendall did the same, his socks going with.

Sliding a hand under James's back, Kendall kissed under James's chin, feeling the other boy tip his head back and arch his back up into Kendall. He could feel how hard James was, and one teasing hand slid down James's abs and over the bulge in his jeans. James let out a soft moan, his own hands running down Kendall's sides and to his pants.

James's well-practiced fingers undid the button and zipper of Kendall's pants with ease, and he quickly slid his thumbs around to the sides, beginning to pull the jeans down over Kendall's boxers.

"Wait," Kendall breathed, pulling away from James. James's features glowed in the low light, his hazel eyes standing out and the perfect structure of his face highlighted by the light thrown by the alarm clock. Kendall took a moment to look and James's face and his perfectly toned upper body before saying, "you're drunk."

"So," James replied, "it just makes me more daring, Kendall. It doesn't change the fact that I want _you."_

Kendall was going to say no, to leave right then and there before anything else happened. He had full intentions to do just that, to refuse James's advances. He told himself that really, he would've left at that moment, but James, with one swift yank, pulled Kendall's jeans down to his knees and used one hand to cup Kendall's hard member. He palmed, slowly, teasing, through the fabric of Kendall's boxers, and Kendall threw his head back and let out a low whine.

"Oh, oh," Kendall groaned, "Oh, James, that is _good."_

"I know," James hissed, drawing one long finger over Kendall. He stopped working at Kendall's erection and pulled the blonde's shirt off instead, also discarding that on the ground. Then, James grabbed Kendall by the skinny hips and flipped him over, leaving Kendall lying on his back, pants halfway down, and James straddling the blonde, his jeans stretched very tight.

"Kendall," James whispered, leaning down next to Kendall's ear and giving it a playful bite, "I'm gonna make you feel reeeaally good." He ground his hips against Kendall's, rubbing his own bulge against Kendall's. Even through the jeans, Kendall could feel James's size, the steady throb, the way it made Kendall twitch and squirm and buck his hips up, seeking maximum friction. They were locked together, rubbing against each other, until James moved down.

"This is gonna be amazing," James promised, his lips on Kendall's pale skin. He bit and sucked a trail from Kendall's jaw, slowly travelling down his neck, chest, and stomach, until finally, slowly, James reached the waist band of Kendall's boxers.

"You just have to lie there," James assured, running a finger over Kendall's still-clothed erection, "I'll do it all with my mouth. I've been told I have a talented tongue."

Kendall whimpered, feeling James's hot breath running across his pelvis, James's fingers slinking under the top of his boxers, James's thighs gripping his lower legs and making his knees tremble. He wanted nothing more than to tangle his hands into James's soft hair and just hold on while James did everything right that Kendall could possibly imagine.

Suddenly, Kendall sat up and pulled himself away from James, leaving James's head lower, between his legs.

"I'm sorry James, but I- I can't let you do this," Kendall scratched the back of his neck, "N-not now, not like this-"

"But Keeennndaaall," James drew out the name long and slow, running his tongue over his lips as he did so. He crawled up the bed, getting back on top, hovering his body above Kendall's. He placed a hand onto Kendall's and kissed the crook of Kendall's neck, biting gently.

"No, no," Kendall's conscience had finally kicked in. He pushed James gently to one side, causing the drunken boy to lose his powerful posture, and got off the bed. Grabbing his jeans, he pulled them up from around his ankles to his hips. Holding the undone jeans up, Kendall very uncomfortably ran out of the bedroom to the bathroom down the hall.

He very nearly ran into Logan, who was coming out of the bathroom.

"Whoah, you're in a hurr-"

Logan's sentence was cut off when he flicked his eyes quickly over Kendall's body, noting first the messed-up hair, second the lack of a shirt, third the pants being held up, and fourth the shape of Kendall's boxers. He raised both eyebrows, pursed his lips, and patted Kendall on the shoulder.

"We can talk in the morning," Logan said decisively. He quickly averted his eyes and walked away from the bathroom, making a mental note to try to stay away from James and Kendall's room at night from that point onward.

* * *

Having spent the night thrashing, tossing, and turning in bed, morning came far too early for Kendall. The sunlight that filtered through the window, the loud beeps of the alarm clock, the smell of coffee: it was a slap in the face after what felt like roughly five minutes of sleep.

Kendall rolled over slowly in his bed, coming close to sliding off the edge. He looked across the room to where James always slept, and, to Kendall's surprise, found the bed deserted.

With a sluggish effort, joints popping and muscles stiff, Kendall stumbled out into the kitchen of the apartment to find his three closest confidants crowded around a table, chatting and laughing over coffee and bagels. Carlos, of course, had his usual part-coffee-mostly-milk-and-sugar concoction clutched in his hand, the creamy drink pale as usual.

"Morning, sleepyhead," James called to him, his shiny white teeth stretched into a sly grin, "It's eleven o'clock; you're welcome for switching your alarm to later."

"It's eleven?" Kendall raised a thick eyebrow, glancing at the clock for confirmation. When he had made sure that James was telling the truth, he shrugged, dismissing the jeers and jibes that came from the kitchen table.

"So, you had a pretty crazy night, huh James?" Kendall called over his shoulder, now standing at a cabinet, reaching for a coffee mug. He made quick eye contact with Logan as he poured his coffee, noting Logan's uncomfortable expression. Though he kept a casual poise, Kendall's heart pounded in his chest as he awaited James's response.

"Yeah," James said to him, "I got _so _hammered. I don't even remember what happened last night. But I guess you probably do, since you must've dragged my ass home."

Kendall tightened his grip on the coffee pot, afraid for a split second that he would drop it. His hand shook as he poured, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"You don't remember _anything_?" He asked tentatively, taking a sidelong glance at James. All he had to do was keep his cool, relax, drink his coffee, breathe. It wasn't so hard.

"Nope," James stared at Kendall hard, the kind of stare that would bore into people's souls, break them, icy and ruthless and enticing all at once. He put his bagel between those perfect, shiny white teeth and bit down, ripping a piece off and eating it the way a lion devours its prey.

James was a lion. Kendall felt like a helpless kitten. He had never even stood a chance.

"Not a thing," James finished slowly, deliberately, still chewing on his bagel.

Kendall looked back at the coffee pot. He imagined dropping it, watching it fall, slowly, to the floor, glass shattering as it hit.


End file.
